


Five times the Doctor called Yaz beautiful

by happierhere



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crushes, Dancing, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Graham plays matchmaker, History is awesome, Holding Hands, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happierhere/pseuds/happierhere
Summary: Five times the Doctor called Yaz beautiful. And the one time she actually believed her.Also known as the Secret Santa fic for Saz_Rah that suddenly became 6000+ words long.





	Five times the Doctor called Yaz beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saz_Rah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saz_Rah/gifts).



> Hi Saz_Rah. I hope you don’t mind I took both of your prompts and went a little wild with them….

1.

Yaz decided there and then that she was going to have a serious conversation with the Tardis about the biscuit pedal.

Yes, it was rather cute how the Doctor’s face still lit up every time a biscuit was produced.

And yes, the extra energy could be also be attributed by the fact they had been cooped up inside the Tardis for days, whilst Graham’s broken leg was healing exceptionally slow (the Doctor’s words, not hers. She was still amazed that the words ‘bone-knitting’ could be used in a real context instead of in in the Harry Potter books she had devoured as a child).

And maybe. Just maybe. The Doctor just really liked flowers.

Still, when Graham had practically begged the Doctor to stop “fussing about him and take the young‘uns out for an outing” and the Doctor had suggested Floriana, a popular but calm tourist destination, she had imagined a leisurely walk and quiet conversation with her friends.

Not Ryan backing out the moment he realised Floriana was a planet dedicated to the preservation of the _flora_ within this sector of space. Not having to convince the Doctor not to use her psychic paper to skip the line at the visitor centre, whilst she practically vibrated with excitement. And certainly not having to sporadically jog just to keep up with the Doctor whilst the older woman zigzagged on the floating paths, just above and out of reach of the flowers.

So she blamed the sugar.

Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself. The park was amazing. They were currently in the blue zone and the Doctor was currently engaged in a rather one-sided argument with her about which flower most resembled the Tardis’ blue.

It was nice to see her friend so relaxed. Even when she insisted on smudging her face against the force field to get a better look at the flowers. It looked like a rather successful – albeit ridiculous - mime-act.

The force field was a wonder in itself. Yaz had only been able to skim the educative texts in the visitor centre, before the Doctor had grabbed her hand and dragged her to the fields, but she had read that the force field was one-sided, quite like the mirrors in interrogation rooms. It kept the flowers safe from the visitors and any possible germs they carried, whilst allowing the visitors to quite literary smell the flowers.

She assumed it also let the pollen through, because her eyes had been getting itchier by the minute. It wasn’t painful, but it was getting annoying. Was this what her father felt when he complained about his fur allergy? Because then, yeah, she understood why her and Sonya never had gotten a pet.

Without any warning, a sneeze shook her body.

The Doctor was by her side in an instant, already scanning her with the sonic screwdriver.

“Yaz,” she started chastising. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re allergic to Drahlia’s?”

Feeling a tad indignant, Yaz answered that she had never even heard of that word before.

“I could have given you the proper medication.” The older woman ignored her protest, continuing on. “But, I can improvise!” She started rummaging in her pockets and pulled out the goggles she so often wore during Tardis’ maintenance. “Take these!”

Yaz slowly reached for the goggles. Was the Doctor serious? Did she want her to wear these in public?

The Doctor gestured for her to put them on and spoke: “It’s only your eyes that’s responding to the pollen now. Wearing the glasses will help. We still have to pass the Centaura, which are from the same family.”

Yaz sighed and obeyed. The Doctor stepped closer and started fussing with the straps around her head. Yaz convinced herself she didn’t know anyone around here, so she shouldn’t care what they thought. But she couldn’t help feeling ridiculous. She probably looked like a right nutter.

She must have spoken those last words out loud, because the Doctor answered her.

“You, Yasmin Khan, look beautiful.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. Well, she tried to, since the goggles hindered all eye muscle movement. She gave the Doctor a slight push on her shoulder. Her friend played right along, nearly launching herself at the force field, grinning wildly.

“Come on! In the yellow zone there is a giant tulip where you can sit in. They take your picture, Yaz!”

“Give me patience.” She muttered quietly. But she hardly meant it. She already knew she was going to pose willingly for that picture with the Doctor. And they were going to use that pic to comfort Graham and to make Ryan jealous for not coming out with them.  

And then? She was going to sabotage that biscuit pedal.

\----

2.

Yasmin was still in her bedroom packing her bag when she heard the knock on the door. Probably Ryan to pick her up. Damn, he was early! Her mum was yelling that she’d get it and Yaz decided to use the extra few minutes wisely.

How to pack at least three shirts in her backpack, without making it too obvious to her family that she’d be gone longer than just this Sunday afternoon? Sure, the TARDIS had a wardrobe, but it was awfully dressy and corset-ty for her taste. Sometimes a girl just wanted to wear a baggy t-shirt after a long day of running for her live.

“Hi Yaz’s mum! How are you? I’m here to pick up the beautiful Yasmin Khan.”

Yaz froze. She did not expect the Doctor herself to pick her up! She also did not have to be in the same room as her mum to know her eyebrows would be hitting the ceiling right now.

 _Hurry,_ she told herself and stuffed her bag back into the closet, resigning herself to period costumes for the trip. She speed walked through the apartment, grabbed the Doctor’s wrist, pulling her along.

“Hi Doctor, you should have told me Ryan was waiting for us. Bye, mum!” She didn’t even stop to look behind her until they had cleared the apartment building.

Only when they were nearing the Tardis, she noticed her hand had slid from the Doctor’s wrist into her hand and somehow their fingers had intertwined. They were effectively holding hands. For everyone to see. She quickly pulled her hand back to her side.

“Sorry,” she offered quietly.

“Don’t be sorry! I’m so happy you are excited too, Yaz!”

Her hands now free, the Doctor started to flap them about excitedly as she spoke “I just realized this morning, we should totally do Asteros IV. Grumpy lot, but they have the best ice-cream in the galaxy! So I called Ryan and then I called you, but you weren’t answering and I was afraid you had forgotten…”

Yaz tuned her out, following her into the Tardis.

No doubt her mother was planning her interrogation right now. Not that Yaz had any answers. Did she like the Doctor? Sure. A lot. But not like _that_. At least not a lot like that. She could admit to herself she was drawn to the Doctor. But it was just a silly case of hero worship. Who wouldn’t be amazed by the Doctor, gallivanting around the known universe, saving people. She had saved her, and Ryan’s and Graham’s lives multiple times. Having a tiny crush was to be expected, right?

She didn’t look forward to tonight. Thank the stars travelling with the Doctor meant that tonight could wait until somewhere next week. Maybe she’d make it a month, to be sure.

\---

3.

With a sigh, she realised she was going to miss Al-Andalus. The city and the citadel of Granada were beautiful. She hadn’t been able to enjoy it at first: a lot of running and devious aliens and near-death experiences will wreak havoc on your allotted sightseeing time. Lucky they had gotten their “in” with the royal family early on, when A’isha went into labour, and the little prince Yusuf had needed some help from a certain Doctor to be born.

Was the son of a Sultan a prince? Or was it just the word the Tardis used to translate for them? Since she knew some Arabic, she had tried to make her own way when they had realised that they were not at Space Barcelona. After a few blank stares and the Doctor’s quick explanation how the Tardis Translation Circuit worked (not that she had understood a word of), she’d stuck to English. Which was then automatically translated to Arabic somehow.

Weird how quickly you got used to the unusual. Speaking foreign languages. Running for your lives in medieval streets. Blowing up camouflaged spaceships. Changing the dirty nappy of the next Sultan. And then getting to pray in the recently built great Mosque. Five impossible things before breakfast. Beat that, Alice.

When A’isha had extended the invitation for prayer, Yaz had wanted to refuse. She knew they usually didn’t stay for the aftermath of their adventures. Everyone was knackered and needed the peace and quiet the Tardis offered. But her friends had accepted for her and told her they’d wait for her at the Tardis.

So she had some time to spare. Clutching the Quran the Sultan had insisted was to be hers in her hands, she decided to wander around for a while, before returning to the Tardis. She had a few things on her mind she’d like to mull over.

The Quran for one. A hand written, hand illustrated, 14th century Quran. She did not even want to know how much it was worth. Probably more than the apartment her family lived in. Or the entire building, at that. She shouldn’t have accepted it, she realised. Maybe she could hide it in the Tardis’ Library? Or could she keep it safe in her room? It was a lovely keepsake of this adventure. Of her time with the Doctor.

Another subject that had been on her mind a lot.

It was just a stupid little crush. It wasn’t too unusual for her to fall for people she admired. She’d had loads of crushes on her teachers and instructors, both male and female. For her, it was a fine line between wanting to be like someone and wanting to be with them. But at the end of the day, teachers came and went. Yaz learned from them what she could, (enjoyed the praise) and moved on.

But the Doctor? There was literally no one like her. Not in the entire universe. Yaz would be heartbroken if she was forced to move on. Luckily Yaz didn’t think the Doctor would leave her “fam” anytime soon. But what did that mean for her? She’d assumed the crush would fizzle out when she got to know the woman behind the legend, sort of speak. But the more she learned… the more she wanted.

She suddenly noticed someone sitting on a nearby wall. The figure was wearing a very familiar blue coat. _Speak of the Devil._

Yaz resigned herself to the end of her quiet and contemplative mood and waved with her left hand at the older woman, the right still clutching her precious gift.

The Doctor waved back enthusiastically, before strolling over. Without a word, she produced a simple linen bag from one of her deep pockets. Yaz gratefully accepted it to secure the Quran.

“Back to the Tardis then?” Yaz asked, with a last longing look at the beautiful park around them.

“Sure,” The Doctor answered. “We can take the long route though. I told the boys not to wait up.” She offered Yaz her arm, which she took, slightly leaning into her side. They started walking.

“How was prayer?” The Doctor asked uncharacteristically quiet.

“Good.” Yaz answered. Even with the Tardis Translation Circuit as a back-up she doubted that she could ever explain the calmness that washed over her during and after prayer to a non-Muslim.

It made her wonder. What did the Doctor believe in? Did the Time Lords even have a religion? And what did they think about other religions?

She silently told herself to relax. Doctor was by her side, close enough for her to smell the unique smell of the process that the Tardis used to clean their clothes. She should be enjoying this moment, savouring it. Unfortunately the rare absence of chatterbox ramblings of the Doctor made room for that one annoying little voice in her head. That stupid little voice that still sounded a lot like Izzy. Didn’t she know women were less in her religion? Shouldn’t she quit school if she wanted to be a good ignorant Muslim? Weren’t queer people haram? How could she be who she wanted to be and still be Muslim?

Rationally she knew it was utter nonsense. Her family had taught her from a young age that it was very possible to follow religious teachings and be a modern family. Her father had always stood up for his two girls and had taught them to be headstrong and fight for what they believed in.

Still. Walking here in this beautiful town, knowing it would be destroyed in a few hundred years, in yet another religious war… knowing the great-grandchildren of the tiny Yusuf would probably die in these streets…  It hurt. And for what? Because of scripture that said one kind of believers are better than others?

“You must think we’re stupid. “ she spoke, before she could censor herself.

The Doctor froze, untangling their arms so she could look at Yaz, one eyebrow up high, questioning.

“Never.”

Yaz felt her lips slip into a small smile. It was obvious the Doctor didn’t have clue what she was talking about, but had answered slightly outraged nonetheless. It was comforting.

“I mean us, as in religious people. Believing in a man in the sky. Killing in His name.”

The Doctor mulled on that for a while. Not knowing what to do with herself, Yaz raised her eyes up to before mentioned sky. A few stars already twinkled in the twilight. She loved the stars. For her they had always been a sign that there was more out there. More than mankind knew. And she had seen a part of it, a wonderful part. Unfortunately it wasn’t all pretty.

The Doctor took a deep breath and started: “Blindly worshipping what you cannot understand can be a source of misery. I’ve met parasites pretending to be gods and demanding bloody sacrifices. I’ve fought the Beast that called himself the devil and wanted to devour the universe.”

A smug little smile, a wink and a tug at her braces: “They’re not all bad though. I’ve been mistaken for a god before.”

Yaz returned the smile, before remembering Lobos and all the good people who had died because of what history thought the Good Doctor required of them. It was easy to understand why more primitive people would take the Doctor with her infinite knowledge and superior skills for a god. She suddenly remember something the Doctor had told King James and quoted her.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

She was rewarded with a bright smile and a cheery: “Ten points to Yaz.”

Yaz felt her cheeks warm. Luckily for her the Doctor wasn’t done talking and didn’t seem to notice.

“Religion is often used and even abused, mostly by people seeking power. As always, it’s the regular folks who know best. Who know what religion is truly about.”

Yaz signalled for the Doctor to continue.

“Love. The message should always be love one another. Don’t be cruel. Be kind. Follow the golden rule: do unto others what you would want them to do to you.”

Yaz nodded, she had heard that sentiment before. “None of you have faith until he loves for his brother or his neighbour what he loves for himself.”

The Doctor nodded in return. “Faith can be a wonderful thing, Yaz. I’ve met people who could be brave, because of what they believed in. Who found their strength in their faith. Like you. Prayer grounds you.”

Yaz was dumbstruck. She had no idea the Doctor knew she prayed regularly. Her room on the Tardis used to be soberly decorated, before more and more items, like candles and a larger closet started to appear. The Doctor had explained that it was the Tardis sensing what she needed and making the room more homey for her. So when the prayer mat had appeared, she hadn’t thought twice about it.

“So to answer your question, Yaz. I don’t think it makes you stupid. I think makes you beautiful. “

Yaz looked away, for sure she was turning red now. Bloody crush. The Doctor was complementing mankind and she took it personally.

So she took a leaf from the Doctor’s book of distraction and promptly changed the subject.

“You’ve met the Devil?”

If she overacted her curiosity a bit, the Doctor didn’t seem to notice and launched into story about cursed letters and a species called Ood. Yaz felt her nerves settle. It wasn’t until they reached the Tardis, she noticed they’d been holding hands again.

\--

4.

The roaring twenties, Yaz thought, were actually really loud. And yes, she was ignoring that it was technically 1934. Twenties sounded better in her head.

Graham had requested this trip, as an homage to Grace on her birthday. Apparently she was a huge fan of jazz music and Ella Fitzgerald was her favourite singer. He had done some research and had chosen one of her early performances at the Savoy. All the Doctor had to do, was agree.

That she did. Unfortunately she had also insisted on dressing the part and had herded her friends into the wardrobe room.

After some consideration, Yaz had decided to wear a flapper dress. She’d found a beautiful dark blue (a slightly darker hue than the Tardis) dress, covered in golden beads, that formed intricate designs on her body – highlighting her hips. She also loved the way it made a swishing sound when she moved.  It was a tad short and her mother would be surely scandalised by the rather low-cut V-neck, but she felt sexy in the dress.

The reaction of her three friends had been interesting. Ryan had let out a wolf whistle, earning a swift slap on the back of his head by Graham, who had told her she looked amazing. She laughed heartily, warmed by Graham’s grandfatherly protection. She knew that Ryan didn’t mean anything by it. She was sure Sonya’s response would have been a lot crasser. She was more worried about her other friend’s reaction. The Doctor, who also was wearing a tuxedo like the two men, hadn’t responded at all. She had just stared at the dress until they left for the Savoy.  
  
And had stared some more during their time at the Savoy. Yaz had been enamoured by Fitzgerald’s performance, until she had felt a hand on her thigh. The Doctor, who was humming along with the music, was absentmindedly playing with the beads on her dress.

Why she hadn’t stopped her, Yaz couldn’t. She’d simply downed her drink, in an misguided attempt to extinguish the sudden heat in her body. 

That had not been one of her best ideas. Prohibition had only ended recently and somehow that meant that the cocktails in 1934’s Harlem were rather potent. And that hadn’t been her first one.  

She barely remembered how they had gotten to the next club. Apparently the Savoy dancers were rather snobbish about who they allowed on their dancefloor. Between their alcohol intake, Ryan’s dyspraxia and the Doctor’s natural baby-gazelle-never-been-on-their-legs-before elegance, they had been kindly requested to leave. Someone had suggested that the Clam House would be perfect for them.

Yaz hadn’t thought twice about it. It clearly wasn’t a racist statement, because about a good quarter of the dancers – really good dancers honestly, they’d beat every celebrity on Strictly easily -  at the Savoy’s ballroom, were black. She just assumed they had meant bad dancers. But later she realised they had probably been talking about the Doctor’s tux.

Because the Clam House turned out to be a gay bar. In the nineteen thirties. A gay bar. In the middle of Black Harlem. Her history teacher hadn’t prepared her for that. Not that she had been prepared for anything their travels threw at them.

Ryan had just shrugged and allowed himself to be invited to the dancefloor by a gorgeous young man in a green suit. Graham had told them he’d retire for the night, before pulling the Doctor aside for a private conversation. It had been very rude, Yaz had thought. And she had retaliated by going to the bar and buying only herself a drink. Another mistake.

It hadn’t seemed a nice conversation though. Graham seemed to be explaining something that the Doctor didn’t want to hear. Were they fighting? But strangely, the Doctor kept staring at Yaz…

At Yaz’s dress, Yaz corrected. She was just obsessed by the dress somehow. Yaz was the one with the silly crush that didn’t seem to go away. And made her do silly things, like actually liking that ridiculous red bowtie that the Doctor had chosen to wear with her tuxedo. Seriously, a bowtie?

The Doctor considered her a friend. The Doctor was a friend. Just a friend. A friend-shaped alien. Who smelled really nice. And was rather close right now.

Yaz blinked. Right. The Doctor had dragged her to the dancefloor in the meantime. Her moves were still erratic. Yaz was no better though, after that fifth Mimosa. They were having fun thought, trying to emulate the Lindy Hop the couples around them were doing. Bumping into each other way to often for comfort. Giggling each time.  

Suddenly the music quieted down. Someone announced a new singer and the woman talked about doing a cover for another song.

It was a slow song. Yaz swallowed. Was the Doctor going to ask her to slow da…

Ah. Yes. The Doctor pulled her in closely and arranged their arms into the correct pose for a slow dance. Yaz swallowed again.

_All of me_

_Why not take all of me_

This was the closest she had ever been to the Doctor and it was wonderful.

_Can't you see_

_I'm no good without you_

And terrifying at the same time. Could the Timelord hear her heart pounding?

_Take my lips_

_I want to lose them_

Was she imagining things. Was the Doctor looking at her lips?

_Take my arms_

_I'll never use them_

Too much.

“I need some air.” Yaz broke free from the Doctor and set out for the exit.

The other woman intercepted her easily and led her towards a closed door, which was sonic-ed open in a matter of seconds. A few minutes later they were on top of the building. The music was still audible though.

Before Yaz realised it was cold and started to shiver, the Doctor had draped her jacket over her shoulders, but kept her distance. Yaz missed her warmth and almost asked for a cuddle.

“Why did you bring us here?” she asked instead.

“Graham explained to me earlier that one of the reasons he picked tonight, was that there would be fireworks. Said it would be romantic.”

Yaz smiled. “For him and Grace.”

“Yeah, something like that.” The Doctor answered. Only her smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Yaz felt she was missing something.

“Wanna dance?” Yaz asked, before her mind could catch up with her mouth.

“Sure you don’t want to go back downstairs? Or back to the Tardis? You’re freezing.”

Without a word, Yaz pulled the other woman closer, leaned their foreheads together and made sure she was leading the dance this time. It went slightly better than before, but only because Yaz was concentrating on getting each of the steps right. 

That was why she didn’t notice until after the song ended that yes, the Doctor was staring at her. At her lips.

She didn’t know who initiated it, but suddenly they were kissing.

She was floating on cloud 9. She never suspected that the Doctor liked her back!

When they came up for air, the Doctor gently caressed her dress making the beads flutter under her fingers. 

“You are so beautiful.”

And suddenly Yaz came crashing back to Earth. Off course the Doctor didn’t like her. She just liked her in this dress.

“Do you only like me because I'm in this dress?” The question rolled out of her mind, without her permission. Damned alcohol.

The Doctor cupped her face.

“Yaz! Off course not! The dress is lovely, and you look great in it. But I like you out of it too!”

Yaz sniggered, as the Doctor scrunched her nose. “Wait, that came out wrong. I like you, Yasmin Khan. You. Not the dress. _You_ are clever. _You_ are wonderful.”

She paused for a moment and seemed to resign herself to something, “and you are also a tiny bit tipsy, aren’t you? We really shouldn’t be doing this right now.”

As the Doctor released her face, Yaz stopped her from turning away. She couldn’t stand the look of disappointment on the older woman’s face.

“You are right. I’ve had too much tonight. But Doctor, that doesn’t mean I don’t want this. I’ve been wanting this for ages. I just never realised I actually had a shot.”

“You have a shot. Like shooting fish in a barrel. You can’t miss.” The Doctor mimicked cocking a shotgun. It was strangely endearing.

“Are you a little drunk too, Doctor?” Yaz teased.

“Maybe. I ordered something called a _bee’s knees_ because I liked the name. It was really sweet, but I think it might have contained some alcohol. It should be out of my system in a few minutes though.”

“It can wait. We can wait.” Yaz said, never been more sure about anything in her life.

“So we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

“Yes. Let’s just enjoy the fireworks, ok?”

 

\---

5.

And they talked. And kissed some more. And decided to not rush thing between them and just do what felt right. Which was mostly business as usual: exploring spaceports, joking around with Ryan and Graham, and running for their lives.

Only now when the Doctor came round this time to the Khan residency to pick up “the beautiful Yasmin Khan”, her mother no longer had to hint at what was going on, she now knew. Even about the time travel.

She told her on a lazy Thursday over afternoon tea, when her sister was at school, her dad at work and the Doctor had been dragged to a motor show with Ryan and Graham. Reluctantly she had stated, but Yaz had seen the glee in her eyes and had been more than glad to let the three geek out about engines without her.

“I knew it.” Her mother smugly stated. Yaz sighed, but didn’t argue. Her mum had hinted at their budding relation five minutes after meeting the Doctor, so that was fair.

The Tardis had been more difficult to explain.

“So this blue box flies around in space?”

“And time. I’ve met James the First, Attilla the Hun, … “ She decided to keep her trip to her grandmother’s youth to herself for now.

Her mum’s eyes grey large. “How was that?”

She felt her nose crinkle in memory. “History is surprisingly smelly.”

Their laughter tapered down to a comfortable silence. Yaz’s fingers started to fidget with her cup. There was still something bothering her. She decided to be brave and throw it on the table.

“I always assumed you would be more upset about me dating a woman.”

Sure, she had known she was bisexual since year 10. But she never suspected her mother knew. Before meeting the Doctor she hadn’t hinted at it either.

“Love is love, luv.”

Yaz blushed. “We’ve just started dating. Maybe it’s too soon to talk about love.”

“Please. You look at that woman as if she hung the stars… although…. Maybe she did?”

Yaz sniggered, remembering the one time the Doctor had nearly destroyed an entire hallway when trying to change a lightbulb. The Tardis had very cheekily grew an entire new lighting system the next morning. The Doctor had groused about it for weeks.

“I’m sure she didn’t,” she answered diplomatically.

“And she looks at you the same way too,” her mother pressed on. “Calls you her beautiful Yasmin.”

Yaz felt her blush deepen. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She’s just like that. Complementing everyone all the time. Everything is always amazing. She called Ryan brilliant the other day when he figured out how to turn on the lights on the Cerberous IV.” Not that the light hadn’t been very welcome, after having stumbling around the ship’s lower decks for hours in the dark. She could still feel the bruises on her shins. “The Doctor talks. She loves to talk. It doesn’t mean anything.”

With a time machine at her fingertips, the Doctor had seen most of the universe. Sunsets, nebulae, mountain ranges, endless planes … and thousands of other girls who were loads prettier than her. Why on Earth would the Doctor think Yaz was beautiful? She knew the Doctor liked her, maybe even lo.. liked her a lot. But that didn’t make her anything more than she was. Just Yaz.

“And just maybe it’s true.”

Yaz rolled her eyes at her mother, knowing full well it would infuriate her as it had when she was younger, but needing to show just how bonkers that idea was.

“Yasmin,” her mother chastised. Even though she had expected it, it made her feel as if she was five again. Wanting to busy herself, Yaz took both empty mugs from the table and walked towards the kitchen.

 “Someday, my _beautiful_ daughter,” Her mother called out after her. With her back to her mother, Yaz felt safe to roll her eyes once more. “You will realize how special you are. And not just because some Doctor swept you off your feet in time machine.”

Her mother paused and added quietly: “I vote we don’t tell your father about that detail just yet.”

Yaz agreed. She loved her dad, but he was a conspiracy nutter. Knowing aliens were an actual thing… They’d cross that bridge when they’d come to it. And knowing the trouble that followed the Doctor around? They’d probably come to it sooner than later.

Her mother followed her into the kitchen and they spent the next few minutes doing the washing up that had been piling up since that morning. It was a comfortable silence, at least she thought it had been, until her mother suddenly revealed what was on her mind.

 “Just promise me one thing. Don’t forget us. Come round every now and then.”

Yaz was dumbstruck. How had her mother guessed what had been on her mind for weeks? How she had grown less and less content in her day job. How she and Ryan had discussed becoming _‘Team TARDIS‘_ full time. “What do you mean?” She asked, buying herself some time.

“You’ve grown up an awful lot lately. I thought it was your job. But now I know about the time machine it just became a lot clearer.”

Was her mum crying? Was she crying? Instead of answering , she just pulled her mother into a big hug. She knew she wouldn’t make any big decisions that day. But she felt a lot happier knowing she had her mother’s blessing.

 

\---

+1

This might just be her favourite feeling, Yaz mused.

Not the anticipation of not knowing where they would end up each time they opened the doors of the Tardis. Not the pure adrenaline of their adventures, running, plotting and surviving. Not even the satisfaction of a job well done, when they accomplish whatever they set out to do. 

Ryan would probably call her a right nutter, but there was something about the aftermath of their adventures. Being absolutely knackered, dragging themselves back to the Tardis to have nice silent meal with the _fam_. Retiring to their room, just the two of them, to either have a nice hot bath and a cuddle in bed or to chat the night away. Sheer fluff.

Tonight the Doctor was rather talkative, but Yasmin had something else in mind. A third option sort of speak. They had been together for a few months now and except for a few wandering hands, they had kept their interactions very PG. 

Yasmin Khan, she chastised herself. You are a grown woman and you can call a cat a cat In your own mind. Sex. She hadn’t had sex with the Doctor yet. And she felt that it was time for that to change.

She looked over to her girlfriend, freshly showered, lying on her back whilst chattering on about possible destinations for their next trip. The prettiest woman on the ugliest sofa she had ever seen. The bright purple Chesterfield that had one morning appeared in her bedroom had exactly one redeeming quality. The Doctor loved it. So it meant she spent a lot of her free time on it, close to Yaz. Talking, reading, kissing… It was the only thing that saved the blasted thing from being chucked right out of her room and into the cold recesses of space. It was the Tardis’ sense of humour she suspected. Or revenge for when she had tried to sabotage the biscuit dispenser.

She checked her outfit and her hair one final time and walked over towards the Doctor, in what she assumed was a rather seductive strut.

Not that the Doctor noticed, still blathering on. Sigh.

She straddled the older woman and silenced her with one finger. The Doctor caught on immediately and performed a rather impressive sit-up, pushing her body close to Yaz’s. The younger woman quickly removed her finger, before it could be wedged between their lips. Kissing was much nicer, thank you very much.

With her fingers in Yaz’s hair, the Doctor led them back down to the sofa. Yaz followed willingly, careful where to place her elbows, wanting to be comfortable for a very long time. Her hands landed near the Doctor’s temples, and she used her fingers to brush the blonde hair behind her ears. Just as she was about to lean in for another kiss, the Doctor tried to sit up straight again. Their foreheads banged together.

One moment Yaz was giggling, because how dorky could you get…

And the next, she was somewhere else. Whatever it was, was all around her, like swimming in a hot pool, but in something thicker, softer than water. She couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t scare her. Somehow it felt safe. When she tried to open her mouth to speak, she was bombarded with images. All of herself. Singing in the Tardis when she thought no one could hear her. Dancing wearing the blue flapper dress. Glaring at the Doctor after having been drenched in goo when her reparations went awry. Munching on a biscuit. Sleeping in her bed. Drinking tea with her mother. Wearing those ridiculous goggles. Putting a flower in her hair. Grabbing the Doctor’s hand, running away from the danger.

Just as she tried to emulate her phantom self and tried to reach for the Doctor she fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Until she landed on her back on the purple Chesterfield. Hadn’t she been on top of the Doctor a few moments ago? What had just happened?

Blinking a few times, she tried to get up, before slumping back into the sofa. Okay, she should probably take a moment to gain her bearings. She looked around to see where the Doctor had gotten to.

The older woman was sitting on her knees, next to the sofa, anxiously wringing her hands. When she noticed Yaz had regained consciousness, she went to touch her only to withdraw her hands immediately, forcing them to be still by her sides. 

Yaz frowned. That wasn’t good. The Doctor afraid to touch her? Unacceptable.

Still a bit nauseous, she turned and sat up straight, careful not to bang her feet into the Doctor. She took the other woman’s hands and pulled them into her own lap. When it seemed like the Doctor wanted to pull away, she gave them a tight squeeze signalling her to stay put.

“What happened?” She asked. First things first.

“I’m so sorry.” The Doctor started, eyes avoiding Yaz’s. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Do what?” Yaz prompted patiently.

“I’m a touch telepath. I can control it though. Normally.”

 “I made you lose control?” Yaz asked smugly. It was rather nice to know she wasn’t the only one affected by this thing between them.  

“Shut up.” The Doctor mumbled, leaning in closer to Yaz, like she wanted to hide in her embrace.

Yaz let go of one hand to pull her in closer, but then reconsidered. “Is this ok?” She asked, hand hovering above her shoulders, not wanting to overwhelm the Doctor again.

“It’s fine. It was just the…” The older woman used her now free hand to mime the contact between her fingers and her temple. “It opened the floodgates. It made you feel what I feel.”

That was what she felt? About her? The warm feeling returned.  

“What was the music?” She asked, suddenly remembering another detail of the experience.

“What music?” the Doctor repeated confused.

“It was a sort of melody. No wait... It was your voice. Singing?”

The Doctor blushed. “I wasn’t singing. It… it was probably my thoughts in Gallifreyan. The language of my people.”

“What did you say?”

The Doctor suddenly found the floor very interesting. Was she shy? “You were deep into my subconscious, Yaz. It could be anything from ‘Yaz has got nice brown eyes’ to ‘I’d really fancy a curry tomorrow night.’”

Yaz could tell the other woman was deflecting. But she was going to let her get away with it, because she too had nearly reached her limit for emotional talk that day. “We’ll I don’t care what you said. It sounded …”

Suddenly she knew, without any doubt, which word the Doctor had been saying. “Beautiful.”

The Doctor, her Doctor, thought she was beautiful. There was no denying it, she’d felt it, with every inch of her being.

“Are you ok, Yaz?” she heard her girlfriend asking her.

“I’m fine. I’m more than fine.” She assured. “I just realized something.”

She loved her. She really properly loved the insane, wonderful, impossible woman in front of her.

She silenced the Doctor’s questioning gaze by pulling her closer into a heated kiss. After all words could only tell you so much. Sometimes you just needed someone to show you.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> If you want a visual to go with the first part, please google “harvest mouse in tulip”. Then picture “polite cat face Doctor” in a tulip. You are welcome for the visual. 
> 
> There are a few references (Lobos, Atilla, Yaz’s Dad’s allergies) to the new books with the crew. Go read them, they’re fab.  
> For the historical bits: I did some research, but I will have made mistakes no doubt! 
> 
> Too my surprise, 1930’s Harlem was a lot gayer then I expected. The Clam House was a real establishment. So was the Savoy and the “… patrons were judged on their dancing skills and not on the colour of their skin.” The dress Yaz wears, is based on Clara’s dress in Mummy on the Orient Express. The song “All of me” is originally by Billie Holliday. Look it up on Youtube, it’s wonderful. 
> 
> Al-Andalus was a medieval Muslim territory and cultural domain that in its early period occupied most of Iberia, today's Portugal and Spain. There were a few Sultans of Granada called Yusuf, but I doubt one of them was delivered by a female Doctor.
> 
> As for the religious bit. In the series Yaz mentions going to mosque, so I assumed she’s a practising Muslim. But maybe not too strict, since I’ve made her drink alcohol. I’m not a Muslim, but an atheist. So I hope I did Yaz’s religious feelings justice. 
> 
> My headcannon for Yaz is that she is a voracious reader (or at least was as a child). Hence the Harry Potter and Alice in Wonderland reference. And yes, I know the quote “Sometime I believe in six impossible things before breakfast”. Yaz is just remembering it wrong 


End file.
